


Loyalty

by FoxyWolfMeerkat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood Magic, F/F, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Inquisitor with a Brother, M/M, Personal Inquisitor Backstory Bites Back, Tags May Change, Weird Spirit Bonding Shit, ends in tears
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-12-30 08:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12104838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxyWolfMeerkat/pseuds/FoxyWolfMeerkat
Summary: No matter what it looks like, he's got to remember: There are no miracles when the Maker's back is turned and the Creators are locked away.





	1. Fireside Stories

The campfire was pleasant on the group’s faces amidst the miserable boggy surroundings. Dorian hung onto Hanhari’s side, muttering about why they’d possibly need to come back into the shorter man’s hair. Cassandra and the Iron Bull were less vocal, but truthfully they were wondering exactly the same thing.

“You know boss, most people aren’t nearly so… relaxed, with their shoes filled with mud and their everything else soaked.”

“I’m used to it. …My birth clan stuck almost entirely to the swamps in the northern Free Marches. Admittedly, this place is a lot colder.”

“It’s _freezing and wet_ amatus. When can we leave?”

“I’m sure we’ll be out of here by tomorrow. At least there aren’t as many corpses this time.”

“Oh yes! Highlight of the day there’s no doubt.”

Cassandra rolled her eyes at the man’s whining, turning her attention to the Inquisitor. “You speak of your family little. I would not think that reminders of them would soothe you.”

“It’s… Well no, it’s not complicated at all. …Do you really want to know, Cassandra?”

“…A little. You mentioned you had a brother once.”

“A younger one, yes. The rest of my family has… passed, as well. I still love them all dearly however." He glanced down to his hands, "Nuan i'tel ‘ma'lethal, y'gira banal'halam i'em.”

“I’m sorry. Losing my brother alone was very hard on me. I can’t begin to imagine what it must have been like to lose so many you care for. We do not need to speak on this further.”

Red eyes focused in on the woman again, “You know Cassandra, you remind me a little of him at times.”

“Do I?”

“It’s little things really. I don’t think you’d actually like him at all. Too rude. Downright crass honestly.”

The Iron Bull chuckled, “Oh yeah? Now I’m curious. Think you could give us an example?”

“No, I couldn’t. It was hard enough hearing some of what came out of isa'ma'lines mouth.”

“It couldn’t have been that terrible amatus. I’m still rather curious myself. It isn’t as though you’ve never sworn before.”

“He got very creative.”

“Well that just makes it fun!”

Cassandra groaned in disapproval. “Moving on.”

“He liked the same sort of books you do, and he was very brave. Softhearted, though only if he thought you deserved it. And tough as nails…”

The Iron Bull quickly noticed the way the elf’s eyes glazed over, “Hey, happy thoughts boss. Nobody will be able to tell if you’re crying in this weather.”

That seemed to snap him out of it, making him giggle. “If I had a tarp to throw over us I would have already. Luckily the tents should be dry fairly soon.”

“Indeed, at which time we climb inside them and get them wet all over again!”

“Got any good stories about your little brother while there’s time boss?”

“Hm… The first one I can think of is embarrassing.”

“Off to a great start.” Bull smiled as he teased.

“Second one goes against the 'happy thoughts’ rule The Iron Bull established.”

“Not that one then, it’s dreary enough out here without making you of all people upset.” Dorian pushed some of the wet hair that’d gotten stuck to Hanhari’s forehead back and out of the way.

“Third…. It’s not so much a story as something I remember very well.”

“We could start with that then, if you wish Inquisitor.”

“He hated our names. Harihan thought they were our father’s awful idea of a joke.”

Dorian sat up a bit. “Hold on. His name was _Harihan_ ? As in ’ _Han-hari_ ’ and ’ _Hari-han_ ’? Maker, I’m afraid I’m taking his side in this debate.”

“Uh, ditto. What would your parents have done if they’d had a third kid?”

“Something with an 'H’. Our father’s name was Halvern. …Could have been something with a 'Vh’ too I guess.”

“Let me guess, your mother’s name started with a 'Vh’, making them one of _those_ couples.”

“…Vhiryali, yes.”

“Amatus, you were raised by some of the most annoying people I know of. Harmless, mind you. But obnoxious.”

“Indeed, I have heard of far more… interesting naming schemes.”

“…Whenever he got irritated about it, I’d make him feel better by reminding him that I have a classically feminine name. He’d grumble, but it always worked. He liked to claim that it was the reason that the clan always expected more of me while he could get away with doing whatever he wanted.”

“Of course being the first born had nothing to do with it,” Cassandra pointed out.

“Well, our father didn’t make him be our Second. He was training to be our war master instead at his own request. He thought he’d be better in that position I guess. Not that I really had a problem with that. I wanted to be our First.”

“Second?”

“More or less the same thing as a First, just further down the chain of succession.”

Cassandra nodded, satisfied. “Why did you wish to be a First then?”

“I wanted to be a Keeper. Usually for the knowledge, the honor, and to protect 'ma'lethal.”

“Still don’t speak Elvhen boss.”

“My clan.”

“What about when it wasn’t for those reasons?” Cassandra tilted her head somewhat as she prodded.

“I was being a brat and wanted to do a better job than my father was doing. Nulaman sil'te'panen ar'emem'i ish… He never held it against me however.” The memory made his gut twist unpleasantly, but after the blurb of Elvhen he shoved it aside.

“Probably just recognized you were being a child amatus.”

“Indeed, many desire to outdo their parents and not always with due cause.”

“Hey, what about that other story? The first one you mentioned.” The Iron Bull poked at the fire with a stick he’d found, causing both the mages to pour some energy into it to keep it going in defiance of the constant dribble.

“The embarrassing one? Figures you’d want to know my dirty laundry, the Iron Bull.”

“Oh so it’s embarrassing for you, not your brother hmm? How intriguing.”

“Hush, 'ma'lath. I’m sure you have your share of embarrassing tales.”

“Of course not! I’m far too poised for such nonsense.”

“Mmhmm. Vin avise. Well… As a premise, I was sixteen and in the midst of my first crush, if that's the right word. I was hopeless, head over heels, puppy eyed, whatever other sayings there are for the matter.”

“That’s adorable amatus.”

“It’d also been three years since it’d started and I hadn’t done a thing. Other than occasionally making a fool of myself that is. I learned later that she’d known the entire time.”

“Oh wow boss, that’s kinda…”

“Pathetic I know. My brother was absolutely _sick_ of it. So he decided to try and play matchmaker.”

“This is going to be rich.” The Iron Bull leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his hands.

“He was not nice about it. She was a warrior for our clan, so his first plan involved tricking me into one of the hunters traps and getting her to save me. Thing is, she wasn’t in camp when he got the first half of the plan done so I was left hanging, upside down of course, for three hours.”

“Yikes. Why didn’t you do anything about it? Like, you’ve got fire right? You still could do the burning stuff thing back then couldn’t you?”

“Oh, right. He’d also taken my knife and dosed me with Magebane.”

“Your brother was an ass,” Bull grunted, but didn’t hide his small smirk.

Hanhari smiled, “Definitely, but he meant well. He was also thirteen at the time. Thirteen year olds aren’t good at making thoughtful decisions.”

“So three hours go by… Did she rescue you?” Dorian was trying to hold back a smile at the image of his poor amatus dangling upside down from some tree in the middle of nowhere at the behest of a younger sibling. All the more reason to appreciate being an only child.

“Yes, she did. She let me rest my head in her lap while I got feeling back in my legs and everything. I was even too out of it to be embarrassed at the time. I babbled my thanks like an idiot and she just nodded and laughed.”

“I take it this is not the last thing your brother did?” Cassandra smirked, leaning forward as she listened.

“Oh no. Next thing he did was get the two of us lost together.”

“Romantic or dangerous?” Dorian scowled slightly.

“Mostly the latter. She was near frantic the whole time and while I helped keep her from doing anything too drastic and even calmed her down outright sometimes, I didn’t know where the clan was either. The territory and terrain weren’t familiar enough for me use the tricks I did know, and I’m no hunter.”

“Was it a hunter who found you then?”

“An apprentice hunter named Sadahn, yes. I was not happy. He’d been trying to woo her lately; which is probably what spurred my brother into action in the first place now that I think about it.”

“Did she like him?” Cassandra’s eyes had widened.

“She did. Thalia was overjoyed to see him. …I sulked all the way back to camp.”

“Third wheel, boss?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Ouch. That’s a pretty spectacular backfire right there. Was she pretty?” Bull chuckled, smirking in sympathy.

“Beautiful. She had soft blue-green eyes, round lips, long red hair-”

“Oh _nice._ ”

“Ha. She was nearly as nice to look at as Dorian is.”

“You’ve always had good taste then I see.”

“For people who’re completely out of my league? Certainly.” He shot Dorian a quick look, darting his eyes over the man's frame.

“Ugh. Keep going.”

“My brother was getting worried that my chance was escaping, so he demanded I just be straight with it. He got me flowers for her and basically said 'get going.’ …It played out all very stereotypically.”

“Oh dear, I hear the sad part roaring up.”

“I found her kissing Sadahn, naturally. I scarcely remember dropping the flowers but I was out of there as quickly as I could be. Neither of them ever said anything so I don’t think they noticed. Harihan was more than happy to keep me company while I bawled my eyes out.” Hanhari smiled softly, “It was for the best though, especially for Sadahn. They really were a fantastic pair.”

“What makes you say that?” Cassandra had perked up again from the brief sad mood as Hanhari continued.

“Well… About two years later, Sadahn ended up almost dying. Fell from a seaside cliff. The healers managed to save him but… He was never the same. He had a shake that made it impossible to wield a bow, poor balance, trouble... forming the right words. It frustrated him endlessly. She bonded with him after the fact, when so many would have left him for no longer being able to serve the clan. Swore to 'unite again the mind and body’. 'I’ve always admired Thalia for that decency, not to mention the fact that it’s terribly romantic.”

“Head trauma is messy shit. Glad to hear the guy had somebody to look out for him.”

“As am I. He really was a good man…”

“Did your brother ever try anything like that again?” Cassandra pushed forward, not wanting the Inquisitor to dwell on anything painful for too long.

“Sort of. But I’m not sure if I want to get into it right now.”

Cassandra nodded, “It is getting late I suppose. I appreciate your willingness to share what you have at least.”

“Da'rahn. I appreciate being listened to.”

“Well if you still want to talk amatus,” Dorian stood, pulling the elf up with him, “I’d be happy to listen to you whisper sweet nothings into my ear that I can’t understand.”

Hanhari chuckled softly, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Nuan i'tel 'ma'lethal, y'gira banal'halam i'em – [I] ache without my family, but [they] have continuation/immortality/without end with me  
> isa'na'lines – brother’s  
> 'ma'lethal – my family / clan  
> Nulaman sil'te'panen ar'emem'i ish - [I] Regret thoughtless fights I had with him  
> 'ma'lath – my love  
> Vin avise – Yes tongue of fire  
> Da'rahn – No problem (literally: Little thing)


	2. Leaving Out Details

“Amatus?”

“Hmm?” The elf squirmed around in his arms to face him, eyes and voice hazy with sleep.

“You... You know you can tell me anything, yes?”

“I take it there's something you want to know?” The elf nuzzled up under his chin, humming happily at the feeling of being pressed together.

“...What happened to your family? I wouldn't ask,” Dorian added hurriedly, “but you know so very much about my history you see and I'm awfully curious about yours. Even the bad parts. I want to know.... You, really. Anything you're willing to share. ...It may not be my place and I don't want to force you either of course but-”

Thin but sturdy fingers pressed against his lips, “I should have shared before.... I'm just... used to not.”

He took hold of the elf's hand, kissing the tips of each of his fingers. “Well... If you're alright with it, I'd be more than happy to listen.”

“As long as you're holding me, 'ma'lath, I think... I should be brave enough. That sort of thing rubs off on a person, after all.” He squeezed Dorian's hand, not bothering to look up from where he'd pressed himself against the man's throat.

“Hm... I'm surprised. You've always struck me as quite brave.”

“Corypheus isn't as frightening as he thinks he is. ...The end of the world is intimidating, but I'm in a position to do something about it. That gags it, in a way. Roomfuls of nobles are tameable, particularly Orlesians and their 'Game'. I never fight alone. None of those things frighten me.”

“I'll have to ask you what does sometime. For now however, I've already asked a question that will keep you up much too late.”

The elf grunted in acknowledgment, taking a moment to process the question. “You already know that I believe in the Maker and Creators both, vin 'ma'lath?”

“Yes, you have told me, and others.”

“Well... My father taught me to believe that. Among other things which... You do deserve to know, but this will be draining enough so, another night.” He moved his free hand between them, resting it over Dorian's heart. “All of the Atishalen believed that. My family, my clan... We didn't go out of our way to be social but lost and injured strangers were never left to the wayside. My father was not that kind of a man.”

“Neither are you,” Dorian noted fondly, tangling his free fingers into Hanhari's hair.

“Mm... It's not a good trait exactly. There's times when it's downright dangerous. ...Unfortunately, word of who and what we were got out. Even kind words in this case had a... a devastating effect. In hindsight, it was so obvious that he had us running and hiding.”

“...From who? People you'd helped?”

“No, strangers to us. Another- Din... Es'an den te'lethal. They were bandits. They'd been tracking us for some time but one night they were comfortable enough to fall on us as wolves do.”

Dorian squeezed the other tightly when he shivered. “This is... that thing Cole saw, isn't it? When Sera woke you by grabbing you by the ankle all those weeks ago.”

“The same, 'ma'lath. It was chaos. They rounded us up like animals, bound up against each other, against trees...” He took a deep breath before continuing. “...They killed father first. He was our Keeper after all, and the source of our... traitorous beliefs. It was only natural.”

“I get the feeling I don't want to know how exactly they went about any of this.”

“You don't. ...They picked on the warriors next. They took their time with each death, making sure everyone saw, though particularly my mother. It was madness really.”

“...How did you survive? It sounds like they were just out to... to massacre everyone. Seems sloppy to have let anyone live... No offense.”

“After they... killed my brother, I wasn't really thinking straight anymore. I was just begging, more scared of dying than I was of anything else. I promised to do anything that they saw fit, swore off the Maker, promised not to tell anyone what they'd done, asked to do it myself so it could be less painful. I may as well have been deaf and blind by the time they got to my mother. I don't remember what they did to her exactly, at least. When they started on me, I thought it was with the intention of killing me. I blacked out after a while. But then, here and there, I remember flashes. Enough to realize I'd lived and was still in their possession but not enough to recognize a lot more. I can only guess that I begged well enough to sway them somehow.”

Dorian was speechless. He didn't regret asking, per say, so much as he wished his amatus didn't have to live with such memories. The man hadn't even gotten specific about what had happened! About just how much he knew... Dreadful. He was probably holding the other so tightly that his bones were creaking, but Hanhari seemed unbothered. Comforted even. “...What then?”

“Next thing I really coherently remember... I'd been treated by the Healer of the Lavellan. I was to become their First and was not to breathe a word about where I'd come from, or the Maker or... Anything, of that nature.”

Dorian pulled back, balking at the other man for a moment. “You can't be serious.”

Hanhari's brows furrowed, “All of what I've told you, but this is the unbelievable thing?”

“The Lavellan were- They were in cahoots with those monsters, and you just... stayed? For how long?!”

“Shh, 'ma'lath,” he reached up from his chest to pat Dorian's lips. “Their war master had come from their ranks. Once he... died, that connection came to it's end. It took a few years, but both I and the clan were better off for it. It came at it's own cost, but that's not my story to tell. ...For all the lie that it was... I felt safe enough. ...Most of the time I was so... deadened to myself that it seemed an equitable exchange. My body was safe and could carry on, and my soul had been stolen away anyhow so it couldn't rot. There were even moments where I felt perhaps I could start again as this 'new person' and be well.”

“...Stolen away?” Hanhari's fingers curled away from his mouth as he spoke, hand returning to where it'd been resting on his chest before.

“Fen'Harel ghi'lal em mir'nadas: The Dread Wolf had found me in life, my body had been emptied so all it could do was survive. I couldn't imagine more than that.” The Dalish man smiled at the other, trying to reassure him, “...I guess Andraste must have beat him in a fight or something though, because I've never been more alive, Dorian.”

The human man took a deep breath, taking in the smile he was being offered. “...Good. Good because... You deserve that, and more. So much more I...” Dorian swallowed hard, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against the tattooed one before him. “You're much stronger than anyone should ever have to be,” he whispered.

“I'm not sure I agree but... I'm flattered you think so highly of me.”

“If you don't agree than you're almost certainly underestimating yourself.” He leaned up slightly to kiss the elf's forehead before returning to the position he'd been in before, cracking open his eyes. Red ones were already open to meet them. “I'm surprised you can be impressed with me by comparison.”

“You chose honesty, yourself, over safety. That's an incredible thing Dorian. Something I was never able to do. Have never been able to do. I admire you immensely for that.” He leaned in, letting his eyes slip shut as he slotted his lips against the thicker pair across from them. Hanhari hummed happily as Dorian kissed back, pulling his hand in to nuzzle against when the kiss broke.

“When did this turn into 'flatter the Altus' time? I thought we were doing something completely different.”

“When I decided that it made me feel better to coo over you. I never meant to imply you had to stop returning the favor, I just don't agree.” He kissed the back of Dorian's hand, then started pressing feathery kisses down his arm.

He took his hand out of the messy dark red hair, using that arm to push himself on top of the smaller man. “I suppose I'll have to update my mission statement then: Kill Venatori, help kill Corypheus, convince my Amatus that he's the most utterly incredible thing to grace the whole of the South, maintain my demonically good looks. All very important and what not.”

Hanhari giggled, keeping hold of Dorian's other hand. “And you call me unbelievable. ...You're heavenly.”

“As are you, amatus.” He kissed the elf again, drawing it out for a while. “I'll have you swooning before I let you fall back asleep, I swear it.”

“Serannas. I'd expect no less from you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Es'an den te'lethal – They were not [a] clan  
> Fen'Harel ghi'lal em mir'nadas - Fen'Harel guides me towards the inevitable


	3. Creepy Shit

Getting back to Skyhold was always a good time. Not as good as, say, dragons, but good.

Wishing the boss a good night, he turned into the Herald's Rest for a few drinks and picked out some new faces. That wasn't really weird, new folks came to Skyhold all the time. What _was_ weird, was Krem and a few other Chargers sitting with a really small guy armed with: one crossbow, two daggers, two swords, one rapier, and a bladed staff. Decently made but not overly ornate. Replaceable. Under his cloak he wore a comfortable looking shirt and gloves, and with the oversized hood Bull couldn't see an inch of his skin.

“Hey boss!” Krem waved him over, “Thought you might want a look at this guy.” Krem's brows raised briefly in a way that said this was something more than his Lieutenant trying to recruit.

The guy in question turned his head slightly towards the Iron Bull, slight telltale bumps in his hood giving the elf away. That at least partly explained how he was so tiny.

Grim was looking through a leather bound sketchbook, presumably the elf's. Skinner tugged impatiently at the elf's black cloak, “Hey, how'd you kill the cheating shem?!”

The little guy didn't take his attention off of Bull, probably sizing him up. “Well his wife wanted him castrated. Nasty shit but she gave me the best pay I'd seen all season, so once he wasn't going anywhere- broken legs kinda fucking do that- I took care of that as quickly as possible.”

That accent, ironed out as it was, was pretty telling. Not Orlesian or Ferelden. No, it was the same accent the Inquisitor had. Northern Free Marcher, natively Elvhen speaking. Bad with hard 'K' sounds, as well as 'W's.

“Then, at her request, I sing the names of every woman he's ever been caught sleeping with while cooking his boys. By the time I was done, the poor oysters were seriously overcooked. Half a page more and they would have started burning like Andraste's crispy asshole.”

Oysters huh? Yup. Definitely northern Free Marches. More human or city elf than Dalish though. ...Interesting analogy there too.

“So while he's choking down that vile mess, I just start-” he makes jabbing motions with his left hand, his attention going back to Skinner entirely, “poking holes in him. Little ones you know? He's still screaming like a fucked cat though. Glad the oysters were at least kinda muffling him. He isn't done chewing through them by the time he bleeds out of course and quite frankly I can't bring myself to care.”

Skinner giggles and claps a little, urging the assassin to tell another story while Grim passes the journal over. Bull opens it up to the front page and takes the seat Krem finally offers up to him. First drawing was of the Inquisitor, but with slightly fuller cheeks. Late teens, early twenties probably. Still got his bright red vallaslin. He's chained up at the wrists, eyes closed and sunken in, head hanging limp, and gut ripped wide open. The offal streaming down his legs is realistically done as everything else, but still has that posed feeling to it like most art does. The next few pages are filled with colorless sketches of carnage with a much less dolled up feel to them. All elves.  
This must be what caught his interest, besides the fact the guy was a walking armory anyway.

Some of these dead would make spiffed up reappearances between drawings of other corpses (previous jobs maybe?); always alive, usually looking quite content. Reoccurring favorites included: a man who looked so much like the Inquisitor it was eerie (vallaslin were the same red, but a different pattern) whom was always drawn with a dark skinned woman with massive, wild hair, thick lips, and thin ears (they fawned over each other, eyes soft and loving), a lanky boy with heterochromia (almost black brown to the right and a snowy blue on the left) who did things like fletching, blacksmithing, and hanging around with another young man who was always out of focus (usually framing the side of the picture so he couldn't really be seen. The artist?), and a girl with excessively long black hair, big green eyes, buck teeth (he exaggerated many of her features in these happy drawings, on comparison to the original. Bull had a feeling he'd had a crush on her once), and was always wearing dresses made of starry night skies. The Iron Bull also spotted a strong looking woman with long, straight red hair, a sharp nose, rounded lips, killer hips (for an elf), and blue-green eyes with an unfocused looking man resting in her lap, holding tightly onto his hand and cooing to him. The colors and poses in most of these pictures were pretty and otherworldly and he could imagine them all in a gallery in Orlais if they weren't all portraying Dalish elves (though that was only apparent on those who were nearing or in adulthood. Still though: elves).

The Inquisitor did not get this same treatment. Otherworldly, but sure as fuck not in a pretty way.

Dead, being dragged away by demons. Dead, ignored in the middle of a busy Dalish camp. Dead, propped up against a halla's leg while the animal nuzzled his hair affectionately (interestingly the halla had vallaslin. The same spring green vallaslin of Miris ( _“'ma'halla”_ was the boss' nickname for her)). Dead, draped over a sleeping halla calf like a blanket. Dead, with the halla from before bleeding and crying in the background while a pale little girl sat beside him. It looked like she was trying to wake him up. She showed up in the next picture alone, supported on wings that were reminiscent of the boss' 'revival' spell. She looked a lot like Miris, same wide ears, big eyes, and skin. Dead, head resting in the lap of an older woman who's face couldn't be seen. A maroon dragon tail curled behind her and around him, and her hands were dripping with blood as they rested on his face. His were bloody too, soaking the ground they rested on. Dead, lying strewn at the feet of...

Divine Justinia (presumably), Cassandra to the right, and Leliana to the left.

Right. This just got  _really_ creepy. Not that it hadn't been fucked up before but  _shit._

“Hey.”

The elf turned towards him with a soft growl, “What? Don't you know it's rude to interrupt people?”

The Iron Bull turned the drawing out towards him and pointed at Leliana, “How'd you know what this lady looks like? You ever met her?”

“...If I did, I don't remember. I dreamed her up. Why? Do you know her or something?”

Mages. The Iron Bull grunted in discomfort, “Yeah. Weird.”

“Believe me, it's not my idea of a good time either.” The elf hissed before picking up where he left off in the story he was telling Skinner and the other Chargers.

Next page he appeared on had him dead and falling out of the Breach. Dead, lying on top of a massive, shattered clock which had red lyrium growths cropping out of the underside of it. Dead, being held up by his left arm by Corypheus in all his nasty looking glory. Dead, being buried by snow in a blizzard. Dead, hanging limp over his balcony here in Skyhold (admittedly that one looked silly enough to make Bull have to chuckle a little). Dead, with a vibrant blue peacock wrapped in his arms. Dead, in the middle of the dance floor in Halamshiral. Dead, in the Fade (based on what he'd heard of the twisted place).

Then, very last drawing in the sketchbook: Alive, the correct age, eyes open and piercing, looking directly at the viewer in the exact pose he always took while making judgments (one leg folded over the other, expression serious, sitting back in that throne Josephine had picked out for him, all the tips of his fingers pressing together and overall looking surprisingly powerful for being a little elf).

This was now demon levels of creepy shit.

“Hey.”

“Arg, what!? Are you even listening?”

“Mmm, I am but,” the Iron Bull smirked, “I'm nosy about a lot of things besides your work. Tell you what? Sate my curiosity and I owe you drinks later.”

“How about now and some dinner too, ox-brains?”

Damn. Brave little shit. “Deal. Tell me enough and ask nicely, and I'll even pop your cork later.”

That shut him up for a second. “Uh...” The hood tilted up and down as the elf got a slightly different kind of look at him. “No offense, but I don't think that it'd fit.”

Bull had to laugh at that, some of his boys did too. “Oh, believe me, anything is possible with enough patience and 'elbow grease'.” He didn't miss the interested tilt of the elf's head at the lube euphemism. Ouch. “What do you like to eat then?”

“...I'll just have soup. These cocksuckers can't be trusted with fish.”

 

Some drinks, dinner, and preliminary questions later, the Iron Bull had 'Harri' in his room. “So, you ever taking that hood off?”

“...Yeah, sure.” He threw it off, revealing wine red hair (shaved at the sides, short and fluffy in front, and behind it went all the way down his back. Very current Orlesian, the braid the back of his hair was a nice Elvhen touch though), warm toned dark tan skin, a big hooked nose (which had been broken and reset quite a few times by the slightly crooked look of it), bushy eyebrows, and lips the exact same shape as the Inquisitor's. Not to mention the vibrant red eyes.

The 'dead' brother, Harihan.

“Do you proposition all of your potential recruits, or am I special?”

“Oh you're special alright, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.” Bull settled into a nice seat he'd gotten for himself a while back and waved his hand at a second. “Take a load off, there's a lot to talk about.”

Angry eyes narrowed at him, but the elf sat.

“In that journal of yours... Who was that guy who kept showing up? The dead one.”

“I draw a lot of dead people.” Harri sneered, but the way his eyes scrunched was more 'pain' than 'defiance'.

“The dead one who looks like you, then. With the red vallaslin. The one who kept showing up over and over and over.”

“Oh, that one.” The elf grumbled, wilting a little and rubbing his face in his hands. “He was my brother. He died because everyone cares more about their so-called 'gods' than they do about actual, real people.”

“No Maker or Creators or whatever for you then?”

“Shove them up a dragon's ass for all I care. _If_ they exist, they're all sociopathic horse fuckers. Or demons. Or both. I'd just rather they didn't.”  
He'd _rather_ they didn't. Meaning he did believe, he just hated them instead of worshiped them. He couldn't blame the little guy with what he knew so far.

“Ha! Fair enough. So, how'd you get into the business of killing people?”

“This might come as a shock to you, but I like not starving to death. And everyone wants somebody dead. Everybody. If you don't, you're either lying or not thinking hard enough.”

“Ever take jobs not killing people?”

“I prefer being a bodyguard when I can, but that doesn't really count. Stealing things I guess... Planting other things, spreading rumors, standing in somebody else's place in honor duels or whatever they're called.”

“Ever break contracts?”

“If there's a good enough reason to, sure. Lies, kids getting involved, clients targeting somebody who deserves it less than they do. Shit like that.”

“What's the worst thing you can think of?”

“Betraying someone who trusts you. Someone who'd never do something like that to you in your place.”

“The people hiring you don't count, huh?”

“I'm just a tool to them. They don't give a rat's ass if it's me doing their dirty work or somebody else.”

“Good point. So, besides drawing freaky pictures of your dead brother, what do you like doing for fun?”

“Hey, stick your dick up your own ass, I draw loads of other shit too.”

“Including lots of other dead people. Still freaky.”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. ...I... Uh... I don't get a lot of time for fun, really.” He frowned, looking away from the Qunari, “I guess I know a few nobles who know how to play nice. There's some Ladies in Val Royeaux that I do a lot of business for that don't mind inviting me to their card games. Some of them... Enjoy playing other games. They're good company when I feel up for it.” His shoulders were tense, particularly as he moved past the subject of cards. Poor kid could seriously use better company.

“Where do you live?”

“Wherever, honestly. ...Skyhold's got a good feel to it, so I think I'll be sticking around for a while.”

“Why did you come here anyway?”

“...This... Inquisitor guy... I guess I'm curious about him. Plus even shitty assholes like me want to be part of something... bigger, sometimes. I know I'm late to the party, but I guess I'm kind of hard to convince.”

“Still don't know if you're a good fit for the Chargers but tell you what? Tomorrow I'll introduce you to the boss and his people. Sate your curiosity like you have mine.”

“For real? ...What's the catch? You already bought me dinner.”

“No catch. Worst case is that I think of a few more questions for you.”

The elf looked him over for a long time, eyes narrowed again and jaw tight. “I guess I'm not staying here tonight then?”

“Not unless you really want to. I'm too tired to be exciting though.” They'd also been drinking, though that was nothing to worry the other with for now.

“Well, I'll keep that in mind.” Harri tilted his head, red eyes poking over him like he was looking for hidden treasure. Or possibly a trap. “Catch up with you in the Herald's Rest tomorrow?”

“Yup.”

He nodded and stood up. The Iron Bull knew that he was going to stop short before he got a good hold on the doorknob. “...I know you're up to something, and it's got shit-all to do with recruiting me. ...I'll play along, for now. Not joining your 'Chargers' isn't any huge loss.” Then he hurried out, not waiting to hear more and not looking back.


	4. Introductions and Explainations

The Iron Bull didn't rush getting up the next day, nor was he particularly bothered when Harri wasn't there first thing that morning. It gave him an opportunity to talk a bit more with Krem on his feelings about the whole thing.

“So...” the Qunari drawled, sidling up to this Lieutenant, “Weird guy, huh?”  
“Weird drawings. Think they mean anything?” Krem hunkered over his breakfast, taking his time eating since he seemed to know he could get away with it today. Which wasn't wrong. If Bull had wanted to train, he'd of been up earlier.

“Think they mean a lot of things, but not what _you_ think. Especially not after getting a look at him.” He waved over the sour dwarf keeping the bar, getting himself breakfast as well. “It's gonna be an interesting day.”

Krem chuckled, shaking his head. “I wish the guy luck then. He'd gonna have a real time with whatever you have planned.”

 

The hood and the like was all back in place the next day, with one interesting addition. A mask, a red mask which covered the top half of his face and framed his jaw. Somehow, Harri managed to make the stupid Orlesian bullshit look intimidating and elegant at the same time. Or maybe it was just actually decently designed. Madam Vivienne was sure to appreciate it. Of course, now the lower half of his face could be seen. It'd be interesting to see if anyone else would be able to catch on with the few clues available. Probably not though.

 

Bull started by marching the elf up to Sera and her girlfriend. “Hey you two. Busy causing havoc?”

“Everyday,” Gize replied happily. The Vashoth was enjoying drinks with the smaller woman. Bought most of them too, knowing Sera. “Who's the Orlesian shortstack?”

“This is Harri. He's joining the Inquisition. Might be joining the Chargers. He wanted to meet everybody.” The Iron Bull could see the him and Sera sizing each other up, though Sera was obviously mostly bothered by the mask. Maybe she thought he was a noble just from that one nice looking thing alone.

“The Inquisitor keeps interesting company, doesn't he?” He said this as he glanced back to Gize, obviously not recognizing Sera at all.

The other elf bristled immediately anyway. “What? We not good 'nough for ya snobby?”

Harri didn't take well to the aggression, baring his teeth. Dalish thing. No city elf would be caught dead doing that. “Maybe you aren't? At least my clothes aren't falling apart at the seams.”

Gize scowled but didn't jump right down the guy's throat.

Sera scoffed however, happy to meet the insult head on, “Oh yeah sure. Least I'm not boring! You look like the inside of my eyes!”

“Maybe I don't _want_ to draw everyone's attention. Ever considered that? Oh wait, probably not, you're-” He jumped slightly when Iron Bull grabbed his shoulder.

“Now now, you two play nice. We're all on the same side here. For now though, we've got plenty of other folks to meet.”

“Yeah! Scram shorty!”

 

Cole wound up not being in the attic as usual, so their next stop was to see Cullen. “Hey there Commander.”

The human man didn't look up from his desk, “Good Morning, Iron Bull. Is this dreadfully important?”

“It's not,” Harri interrupted, “Bull is just getting me familiar with people around here. I'll let you work ser.”

Cullen glanced up at his voice. “Oh, a new recruit then? Well, if you ever need anything I'll typically be here or in the courtyard working with the troops.”

“Thank you ser. Perhaps I'll watch your drills sometime. ...Have a good day.” He looked to Bull, following his lead out of the room.

“And to you as well.”

 

Next was down the stairs and into the barn. Bull waved Blackwall and Miris inside from their self-assigned duties (wood chopping and helping tend to the horses respectively) to get started with the introductions. “Harri, this is Warden Blackwall and Miris. Miris is from the Inquisitor's clan.”

“Harri is it?” Blackwall started, looking the very short man over, “Good to meet you son. Here to work for The Bull's boys?”

“No, I'm here to work for the Inquisition. Iron Bull here is just nice enough to give me a personal tour.”

“Iron Bull is very nice,” the Elvhen woman chirped, “and it is good to meet you also. You will like things here I think.”

“We'll see about that, but thanks anyway. ...So, I heard the Grey Wardens fucked shit up. What's your take on that, Blackwall?” He was prodding for a reaction, the question presented as an obvious challenge.

Blackwall straightened up somewhat, the man's expression closing off. “Pisses me off is 'my take on it',” he barked back. “It's a foul thing, taking advantage of good men and women the way Corypheus did.”

“Well 'good men and women' should learn to be more careful then, because things like this? Foul shit isn't ever going away. Sounds like you weren't a part of it though, so good on you. With any luck Corypheus will hit the ground with a satisfying enough 'thud' for everyone's tastes.”

Blackwall huffed, clearly still offset by the accusation but knowing a ceasefire when he heard one. “Oh he will. We'll see to that.”

Miris was squirming slightly, doing that thing where she tugged at her ears and refused to look at anyone present when nervous. The second Blackwall spotted it he grabbed one of her hands and squeezed it. “If you'll excuse us?”

“Sure thing. See you around Blackwall.” The Qunari led Harri away, glad the other didn't seem to have any problems leaving it at that.

 

They crossed the courtyard, stopping well out of the way of Cassandra's sword as she trained. She sighed softly on spotting them, easing back from the dummy and putting her sword away. “Yes, The Iron Bull? Who is this?”

“This is Harri, he's joining up with the Inquisition. Decided he was an interesting enough guy that he deserved introductions.” Bull patted the elf's back, ignoring the look he got out of the other.

“Is that so? Well, welcome to Skyhold then, Harri. It is always good to see more people willing to make a difference. I am Cassandra Pentagast.”

“Yeah, hopefully. ...Pentagast huh? Done any dragon smiting lately?”

“As a matter of fact, though Bull may be better to talk to about that subject. I do not do the act justice when I speak of it.”

Iron Bull hummed happily at the memory, “Oh yeah. I'll tell you _all_ about it later.”

Harri gave him another look, “Are we talking about killing giant fire-breathing lizards, or you spilling your oysters?”

Cassandra groaned softly, “Admittedly, you could be talking about both. Moving on. You have an Orlesian mask, but your accent certainly isn't Orlesian. Where are you from?”

“Free Marches. Mostly up north but I moved around a lot.”

“I see... Do not let me keep you. I am sure you both have more to do today than simply talking with people.”

“Eh, that's the main thing on the agenda, kinda just playing it by ear from there.” Bull smiled at her.

“I'll be here if either of you need me later then.” She nodded to the men, getting hold of her sword and getting back to her training.

 

Harri gave a pleased hum as they entered the main hall of the keep, taking everything in. “The Inquisition is actually... Fuck, how do I put this? It's obviously well off right? But it's not like Orlais where they rub it all in your face. It's kind of... cozy as Andraste's tits in here. Figures though I guess, right? Herald of Andraste being the one running the place and all.”

Bull chuckled, “Gotta say, I've never really considered how comfortable Andraste's tits would be.”

“Of course _you_ haven't. You follow the Qun or whatever. You're worried about your Prophet guy's rack, not Andraste's.”

The Qunari snorted, “Yeah, I definitely haven't wondered about Koslun like that.”

Harri chuckled, shrugging, “Well that's no fun. Though I guess true blue Qunari are too serious for shit like that. ...I'm sure his rack wouldn't compare to yours away.”

“Wow, what conversation am I overhearing,” Varric said, chuckling to himself slightly. “I don't think I've ever heard blasphemy to the Qun before.”

“Oh I can blaspheme all kinds of crap. Want me to do the Creators next? Or maybe the 'Ancestors' or whatever they are would be more your style.”

“Naw, I think I'm good. Varric Tethras, pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“...Hold up. Varric Tethras? Like the writer, Varric Tethras?”

“The one and only.”

“Aw fuck! I don't even have any of my books with me! Damn... Well, It's really damn good to meet you anyway. I'm Harri. Iron Bull has been showing me around.” He offered the dwarf his hand, eagerly shaking it when he accepted.

“Always good to meet a fan. I'm surprised though, Iron Bull isn't usually the tour-giving type.”

The Iron Bull smirked, “I have my reasons. You're free to come along if you're curious.”

“Sure, why not? It's not like I was working on anything important at the moment anyway.”

“...I can't tell if I'm really flattered, or really fucking worried.”

“I'm sure you'll figure it out along the way, come on. I want to see what's up.”

 

They pressed upstairs next (Bull muttering about humans and elves and their preference for narrow corridors all along the way), Varric hanging back while Harri and Bull went up to where Vivienne lounged on her sofa. “Oh, good afternoon dears. What's the reason for this surprise visit?”

“Madam, this is Harri. He just joined the Inquisition and he wanted to meet all of us.”

The woman smiled, “Is that so? Well it's a pleasure. I am Madam Vivienne-”

“Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais, also known affectionately as Madame de Fer. Your reputation proceeds you.” The elf took a knee, taking her hand gently and pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles. “I've heard a lot. All good things, I swear.” He shot her a broad smile before releasing her hand and rising back to his feet.

“Ah, a gentleman. How refreshing. Don't think I didn't hear you earlier however darling. Your voice carries quite far when you're excited.”

He chuckled softly, “So I've been told. Apparently some people find it endearing. I'll try and keep my tongue in check when you're in earshot if it pleases you however, Madame de Fer.”

She nodded approvingly, “I think we'll get along just fine, Harri dear. Come back to see me when you have some time to chat. I'm desperately curious where you came to know my name from.”

 

Passing into the library (without a second thought, Harri hung back and tried to assist The Iron Bull in getting his horns through the door. Unnecessary, but cute), the small group headed over to where Dorian sorted through a number of research papers and reports that had been pawned off on him. Cole hung around beside him, watching the papers closely.  
“And if you do this then people work faster?”

“That is the hope, although it's entirely possible they'll find a way to screw it up again. Sadly, not everyone here can agree on a system for our paperwork and so we wind up with messes like this.”  
Harri folded his arms, “Paperwork...? At the end of the world?”

Dorian looked back with a peeved smile, “That's what I would have thought. But no, the end of the world generates an unbelievable amount of paperwork.”

“Would you even say it's... apocalyptic?”

Varric chuckled at the pun. Hawke would have liked that one. He'd have to include it in his next letter.

The Tevinter man groaned deeply and hung his head for a moment, “That... That was horrible. I am in physical pain from that joke.” He gripped at his chest as he turned around. “And there was so much I wanted to ask you about that spirit you have bound to you. Now, I'm not sure it's worth the risk.”

The Iron Bull scowled, “He's got a what?”

“A spirit. It's still in the Fade, but I can sense the connection quite clearly. It's... Admittedly not form of binding I'm personally familiar with but I have read about it. Rather rare.”

“Uh, if you're done talking about me like I'm some kind of art piece, that'd be fantastic. What are you, some kind of necromancer?”

He smirked, “That is exactly what I am actually. How astute of you to notice!”

Iron Bull folded his arms, considering Harri quietly. From spirit binding straight to necromancy. The guy didn't look like he was undead...

“Gross. ...I'm Harri.” The elf extended his hand to the other, his grip obviously looser than the human's while they shook hands. “What sort of accent is that?”

“Good to meet you, Harri. I am Dorian Pavus, originally of Qarinus. That would be the accent you're hearing.”

“Uh, bless you? Was that the name of a place or you sneezing?”

Dorian rolled his eyes, “Ah yes, how very original-”

“Oh, _sorry_ Ser Pavus. I'll make sure to try harder next time I decide to mock you.” He smirked, giving Dorian's hand one last hard shake before letting go.

The Tevene man clearly didn't appreciate being cut off any more than he did being teased but let it go and turned to The Iron Bull, “So, is there any particular reason you've come up here? I didn't realize you could even manage it with those horns of yours. No offense.”

“Just introducing Harri here to everybody. He's joining up and he seemed like the 'deserves some recognition' type.” The Qunari patted the little guy's shoulder, chuckling when his hand was swatted at.

“Pardon my intrusion,” Solas began as he left the stairwell, “but I overheard something about binding spirits...?” The elf glanced over all of them with narrowed eyes.

“...Yeah. Look, it wasn't my idea okay? The thing sort of just... did it by itself. So quit glaring at us like you thought you heard us talking about sucking Corypheus' Blight-y dick okay?” Harri bristled, puffing up and putting himself a little more between Solas and the rest of the group.

Solas sighed softly, lip curling slightly at the distasteful simile, “Charming. What sort of spirit was it exactly?”

“Like it's any of your business baldy. I was dead, or I thought I was dead, then I wasn't anymore. That's the best you're getting out of me.” The snap of teeth as Harri finished his sentence was impressive. Varric quietly wondered if the kid had cracked a tooth or two in the process.

“Hardly informative. Do you even understand the gift that you were granted?”

“Not being dead after fucking horrible shit went down? _OH_ _WOOHOO._ Call the Divine everybody, one of the demons from the demon-pile we call the Fade decided to do something not-completely fucked up! Never mind the dozens of other people who totally deserved it more!” Harri marched up to the other, pointing a finger up at his neck and making the man tilt his chin up. “Drop. It.”

Solas held his ground, looking down at the other with an expression that could only be described as contemptuous. “So you do understand, you simply do not appreciate the spirit's sacrifice at all?”

Harri pulled his pointer in for a moment, swiping his thumb across it to start a small flame at it's tip before extending it under Solas' chin again. “I. Said. Drop. It.”

This time Solas backed up slightly, not eager to be burned. “Fine. I will keep in mind that you are not capable of civil discussion.”

“Might have helped if you didn't act like a smug noble dickhead.” Harri put his finger out, marching back to Dorian. “You. You can ask literally anything you want, as long as that asshole doesn't get to hear a word of it.”

Dorian's brows seemed about ready to fly off his face. “...I can comply with those terms, but are you sure you're willing to do that?”

There was a moment of silence as Solas turned to walk away. Not a scrap of the black fabric Harri had draped over himself so much as twitched, only stirring on account of natural airflow and the elf's breathing.

“I thought not. Really, all things considered it was a bit crude of me to ask. Don't worry yourself over it.” The bronze skinned man waved him down. Harri only relaxed for a few seconds.

“Loyalty,” Cole said softly once Solas had gone. “The spirit that helped you was Loyalty. ...But that makes you sad. It makes you sad because it didn't help any of the people you cared about instead. ...It helped you.”

The anger he constantly seemed to hold himself up with withered away, leaving the assassin looking small. “I... You people keep spirits?”

“Cole is... exceptional. I'm very sorry. He has the best of intentions but he struggles with the concept of privacy.”

“You aren't alone,” the spirit continued. “You aren't the only one who made it.” He ignored Dorian's attempts at hushing him, though the mage went quiet when Harri responded.

“Didn't I? I was pretty damn alone when I came too.”

“But someone was missing. That's why you're here now, right? He's here. You can go see him right now.”

“I'll believe it when I see it.” He practically limped back to the railing, pushing his mask up somewhat to rub at his face as he leaned against it. “Meeting new people is the worst. Remind me why I agreed to this again, Iron Bull.”

“I think the kid spelled that out pretty neatly. Better than I could put it anyway.” Bull had his eye trained on Dorian, not Harri. Grey eyes were picking over the smaller man's skin, clearly realizing that he'd been presented with some very important details but not able to see where the pieces alined yet. “Need a minute before we move on?”

“I... yeah. ...I'm guessing the Inquisitor is the last person I get to meet? To make sure I don't stab anybody beforehand or something?”

“To be honest I kind of thought we'd run into the boss before now. He'll always running around somewhere.”

“Actually,” the Tevene mage started slowly, “he's as swamped with paperwork as I am.” He folded his arms, right hand coming up to fuss with his chin as he often did while thinking. “... _Hanhari_ hasn't been out since breakfast this morning.”

Harri flinched, mask dropping back over his face as he looked up. He muttered a few quiet curses as he yanked the misaligned thing off his face, throwing his hood accidentally with the straps that'd held it on. Red eyes were wide, looking over all of them and utterly disarmed. “That's his name? It's Hanhari? You're sure?”

Varric cursed under his breath next. The dwarf dug the story the Inquisitor had told from Dorian a few weeks ago, not long after he'd told it. They really did look alike, even for brothers, there was no getting around it.

Dorian was shocked as well but he seemed to handle it better. “Completely certain. At least as certain as I am that 'Harri' is not your given name. ...Come, if you try and storm in there alone you'll get yourself stabbed.” He offered the other his hand, looking entirely too sober and calm. Harri practically dove for it, dropping his mask in his hurry. Dorian shot Bull and Varric a hard look as he guided the younger man away, nailing them down where they stood.

“Damn... I was hoping I'd get to see the boss' face. Oh well.”

“You knew the whole time? ...Actually that explains a lot. I'd chide you for not just going straight to the Inquisitor with this but I guess he really doesn't make himself an easy guy to find most days. Could have asked Nightingale though.”

“Eh. Too late now.


	5. Stun The Sun

Dorian walked with Harihan up to the last flight of stairs. It really wasn't his place to intervene in the moment, but the other elf didn't continue without him. He stared up the last flight of stairs as if it were some dizzyingly tall mountain, like the thought of climbing the distance was going to make him sick. His chest rose and fell just a little too fast, mouth hanging a little bit open and eyes wide.  
“I can't.”

“Of course you can...” He reached up, rubbing the very short elf's back. “He'll be nothing but happy to see you, you know. He's spoken a little about you; he misses you terribly.”

“He thinks I'm dead, doesn't he?”

“...Yes, you are going to shock him, that's true. But it's all going to be alright, you've nothing to fear from him.”

“...It's been a really long fucking time.”

“You'll have plenty of time to talk to him. Hanhari will make time for you, as much as you need, I'm sure of it.” With a squeeze to his shoulder, the human tried to usher the other upwards again. “If you're really that nervous I can go up with you.”

“What if it's not actually him? ...What if I've gotten my hopes up for... for nothing. He's supposed to be dead.”

“I think the chances of that at this point are fairly slim but... Your parents. What were your parents' names?” Dorian stood in front of the younger man, hands on each of his shoulders.

“...Halvern and Vhiryali.”

Dorian patted one of his shoulders, “He is exactly who you think he is. Come now-”

“Dorian? Is that you? Who are you talking to?” The sound of the heavy chair scraping across the stone floor echoed down to the pair.

Harihan winced terribly as his older brother's voice and the screeching of the chair carried down from his quarters.

“I'm a touch busy, so if you need something, you'll need to come up here.”

“Go.” Dorian urged the younger elf quietly.

“Fuck, please come with me- I know it's stupid but-”

The mage didn't let the other finish the negative thought, turning towards the stairs once again. “Coming! My apologies Amatus.” Dorian took gentle hold of Harihan's arm and pulled him up the final flight of stone stairs. He didn't encounter as much resistance as he had anticipated, but the tense aura coming from the Elvhen man was palpable. “I will warn you to brace yourself. I've got... something of a surprise for you.”

“I hope it's important... I know I'm not the only one with work to do!” As the human mage cleared the banister, he could see the other's folded arms, raised brows and light smirk. It was a teasing expression, soft and inviting rather than accusatory.

“It is extremely important,” Dorian said gravely. This was, of course, a wonderful thing, that Hanhari had back any of his family at all but the circumstances were still unbelievably unfortunate. That and Harihan's nerves were getting the better of him.

He watched quietly as the two seemed to stare at each other. Dead silence. Harihan seemed to recover first, “It's... you. Really you. Sweet Andraste fucking Fen'Harel, where have you been all this... Are you...” The younger brother took a few tentative steps forward, abandoning Dorian's grip altogether as he reached out. He didn't get that much closer however, not without the other's permission.

Hanhari still seemed in shock, all but frozen in place as he gaped at the sight, eyes twitching this way and that as he took the look of the other elf in. He'd gone a little pale and his breathing was obviously shallow. After nearly a minute of this, both Harihan and Dorian seemed to pick up on what was about to happen.

“Amatus-”

“Aw shit you still-”

Both leapt into action, though not quite fast enough to beat out the way the other's legs collapsed under him. Hanhari landed heavily, only just avoiding hitting his desk thanks to a slight leftward lean. Harihan came around the right of the desk and pulled on his legs to help lay him flat. Dorian went around the other side, shifting the unconscious elf onto his back completely by his shoulders. Raising a hand to his cheek while the other elf threw his feet onto his broad shoulders, Dorian found the man to be a touch clammy and overly warm. A thumb tucked under his jaw confirmed a quick heart rate. Hanhari didn't pull away from his hand as he came too again, only moving his head enough to look up at the human man. “I... What was it...?”  
Together enough to realize that he'd been shocked enough to faint but not long enough yet to recall what had done it. “Deep breaths Amatus. And no getting up until everything's settled in, hm? We're lucky you don't seem to have hurt yourself.”

“I'm fine Dorian, I'm certain of that much.” Hanhari still sighed softly, reaching around to rub at his left shoulder. Distantly the Inquisitor wondered if the landing would cause him to bruise but looking to see who else was in his quarters seemed more important for the moment. On seeing Harihan once again, Hanhari froze. “...Impossible....”

“You're telling me, shit.” The younger elf reached down, stroking along one of the red lines of Hanhari's vallaslin. “I... thought you were gone.”

Hanhari shook his head in confusion, hair catching slightly on Dorian's knees. “Din... Din I saw... I saw you ripped open.... i'telam'el. Venuralasen tarsul, ir'el telam'el.” Dorian moved the hand from his Amatus' face and pressed on his chest to keep the Dalish man down. He hadn't jumped to move yet, but the human man didn't want to risk it.

Harihan looked away from the older elf, frowning. “You did, I'm sorry.”

The Inquisitor swallowed hard, reaching up to take hold of the remaining hand on his face. “Mythal var'amal em, ane vi'rahn.” Pulling his brother's hand forward, he pressed the knuckles against his lips and let his eyes fall closed. “Ar mi'nas'sal'inem na.”

“I... I missed the fuck out of you too. Mi'nas'sal'in, ha'el isa'ma'lin.... Ugh... I haven't actually used... I haven't spoken like that since.... Shit, it's been so long.”

“Y te'mana'el.” Letting go of the other's hand, Hanhari pushed back up into Dorian's lap, hissing softly. “Let me up, let me up.” He kicked gently in an attempt to push Harihan into taking his legs off of his shoulder. Luckily, the younger complied quickly. Just as soon as he was upright, Hanhari had tugged the other into a tight hug. “Thu? Nuvenan eolasa thu ane amahn, Harihan, sathan isa'ma'lin.”

“...It was a spirit. I'm no good at explaining it but I'm... connected to a spirit on the other side of the Fade. It keeps all my insides from being outsides again somehow. ...I go by Harri now, by the way. But... I guess you can call me whatever you want.”

The elder brother drew back again, looking Harri in the eye. “If that's what you want, I'll respect it. ...A spirit. I always knew you were the incredible one.” Smiling softly, he pulled a hand along his brother's slightly wider chin.

“Me?” Harri's nose scrunched in displeasure. “You practically lead a small god damned- er... God blessed I guess, technically... A kingdom. You're practically a fucking king! I've seen all the people you have out there. I've heard what you've done! Orlais would be a murder-filled shit-fest if you hadn't been at that damned ball. I'm just another mercenary.”

“A person's position in life doesn't determine their worth.” Getting hold of his desk, Hanhari pulled himself up and offered a hand back to Dorian first, and then Harri.

Harri scoffed as he stood with the other's help, “It... You're wrong. It's not everything, but only an idiot would think it doesn't influence some things.” Even once he was on his feet again however, he only squeezed his brother's hand harder. “...What were you before you were this...?” Abruptly, he looked to Dorian. “Hold on, uh, do you fucking mind? Thank you, but uh-”

Dorian smiled with a small huff, “Oh I see, now that you've made him faint, you've all the confidence in the world.” He pushed past the sarcastic quip quickly and started backing out of the room, “Well, I do have work to do, so I'll leave you two to get reacquainted hm?”

“Thank you Dorian. Oh!” Hanhari turned towards the other before he reached the stairs, “I'll see you tonight?”

“Not getting kicked out am I? ...Of course, I'll be wherever you want me, Inquisitor.” He gave a quick nod to the elf and a glance to see if Harri had any reaction to his brother's blunt invitation before he absconded from the scene entirely.

Harri watched the human go, waiting until he was gone.  
“The Tevinter guy? You can't be serious.”

“And if it is serious?”

He flinched, “Dick sucking fuck- not 'I'm serious', 'it's serious'?” Harri winced and pointed out the way Dorian had left, “How long have you known that guy?”

“Several months now. Do you want details?” Hanhari gave his brother a shit-eating grin, already knowing the answer.

“...Yes, tell me everything. But my other question first. Where were you? What happened before all this... Before that.” He lifted up Hanhari's left hand, showing the other the Anchor.

“...Long story short, I was joined to another clan. I became their First. It... It wasn't so bad. I managed to gain a few decent companions.”

“Like that lady I met earlier? ...Miris, I think?”

“Yes, Miris especially. In truth though... I'm glad to be here. Even if it is all more than a little bit mad.” Hanhari let his arm fall back to his side when his brother dropped it, bringing his hands together to run his right thumb along the rough chunk of Fade embedded into his skin.

“A bit huh,” Harri shook his head, laughing under his breath. “You're incredible.”

“Well thank you.”

“Incredibly stupid.” Harri snapped softly, pulling Hanhari along to sit on his bed. “...Alright, I won't ask how you got involved with another clan after all that, for now. Obviously it's not cheery business. Dorian first?”

“Ha. Fine. Ask and I shall answer, so be sure to mind you don't ask anything distasteful.”

“Hmph, that's just begging for me to ask questions like 'have you fucked yet' or 'is his dick so big you have to fuck him'.”

“Maker's breath...” Hanhari laughed a bit, feeling his face get a little warm. “I forgot how awful you are.”

“...Do you... You said it's serious. ...Do you think you love him?” Harri felt his heart pick up for the other's sake. He'd always worried about his brother finding someone who would be good for him. He had no idea about this Tevinter shem... Hanhari hadn't always had the best taste in men in Harri's limited experience. One bad pick didn't necessarily mean anything.

“I do.... I know he's not what you'd imagine, not for me, but he's so sweet. It took a while for him to even warm up to the idea of us...” The older elf rubbed his neck for a moment, “It's hard to explain while still maintaining any sort of privacy. At it's basest, Tevinter doesn't approve of relationships between two men or two women.”

“...Weird. I take it he doesn't want to go near a woman with his prick? Cause I can totally see how that would result in issues, everyone expecting shit out of you when it's uncomfortable to even think about....”

“...Basically. Besides that...” He shrugged, “I guess if you're asking after issues, we don't always understand each other but we try. That's all anyone could ask, isn't it?”

Harri nodded, “Yeah. As long as he's trying too.”

“He is,” Hanhari said quickly, aiming to reassure the other. “Anything else?”

“...Is he a good kisser?” The younger man smirked, raising a brow as he moved onto the more pleasant questions.

“An amazing one. Takes my breath away regularly.” The slimmer elf hummed happily at the memories that came to mind.

“And you're sleeping together right? That's what that whole thing earlier was about?”

“We are. It was like mending spider webs getting him to agree to it, I can tell he finds it very comfortable though.”

“So... What? Is he shy?”

Hanhari frowned, “Well... yes and no? It depends on the subject. He's not shy about sex at all, yet things like kisses in public, or cuddling in bed fluster him. It's rather cute.”

“...Oh.... Huh.” Harri started pulling together a list of questions he absolutely intended to push Dorian with. He seemed fine so far, but like hell was he simply going to go without checking. “He isn't... pushy about sex, is he?”

“Pushy? Not at all, no.” The Dalish elf frowned deeper, “Why would you think that?”

“No reason. Just being careful,” Harri pushed the conversation along quickly. “Uh, Ama-whatever it was. That thing he was calling you, what's that mean?”

The older brother still found the question suspect, but the next one took his mind off of it for the time being. “Amatus? ...My understanding is that it's Tevhen for 'beloved'.”

“Aw shit. That's damn adorable. Do you have anything you call him? 'Ma'vhenan?”

Short red hair shook with the head it was on, “'Ma'lath. You were close though.”

Harri couldn't help his soft smile. “You are so cute. That's pretty nice. ...Do you want to bond with him?”

Hanhari's back shot straight. “Bond with- I mean- Maker help me I- ...I don't know?” The man's voice became somewhat pinched as he spoke, fidgeting in surprise. “Maybe? It's a little soon to think about but.... There's so much to think about...”

“What? Like what exactly? His nationality? Like elves going extinct? ...Hanhari, fuck that. Forget it. You don't exist just to-”

“Harri,” Hanhari interrupted, “I _want_ children. ...I'm nervous to even bring it up to him. I don't know if I even care that they're Elvhen or not. ...I'm not ready for that, either way.”

“If you really love him, you're going to need to think about that eventually. And talk about it.” Straightening out his wider shoulders, Harri folded his arms and puffed up.

He only got a defeated nod in return, “I know. Eventually. Not when I'm not even sure if we'll both live through this. Neither of us need those sort of hopes and their worries right now, that I am sure of.”

Harri deflated, “You are going to live through this. You have to.”

His older brother gave him a small smile, “For what it counts, I don't plan on dying.”

“Well... Good. I can't have found you again just to lose you to whatever demons or darkspawn or whatever it is that wants you dead. Not a chance.” Unfolding his arms, he reached out and pulled the other into another hug. “Okay?”

Hanhari squeezed the younger elf tightly, “Okay, Harri. So long as you promise the same.” He pulled away from him again. “What about you then? Where have you been?”

“All over the Free Marches and Orlais. Like I said before, I'm just a mercenary.” The broader elf shrugged his shoulders. “Just had to get by... Rosa.”

“I understand... I'm proud of you, Harri. Making it on your own for so long...” Hanhari kept one hand on Harri's shoulder, rubbing it gently. “I'm sure it was... very difficult at points.”

“Yeah, something like that.” He reached up to take hold of the hand on his shoulder. He let the moment hang, still reeling over the situation. Hanhari was real, here, the hand under his warm but painfully unfamiliar. It'd been a long time. His brother was older, thinner, calmer. At least he seemed calmer, that much would at least be a change for the better.

“How long have you been here in Skyhold?” Hanhari pressed, voice even and low, so it was his forward lean that gave away just how eager he was.

“Just short of a week. It's been good here. The people all seem to like you; you take good care of them.” Taking hold of the hand on his shoulder, Harri lowered it down to rest between them.

The other elf nodded, “Of course. It's important to me. Maybe this was more than I planned for, but I always planned on being a leader.”

Harri nodded right back. “That's true. ...I guess I'm proud of you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> I'telam'el – And worse  
> Venuralasen tarsul, ir'el telam'el – Gods above, so much worse  
> Mythal var'amal em, ane vin'rahn – Mythal preserve me, you're real (lit. yes thing)  
> Ar mi'nas'sal'inem na – I missed you deeply  
> Mi'nas'sal'in, ha'el isa'ma'lin – Lit. The knife again in my soul (The intense feeling of missing someone/something that is deeply important or personal), older brother.  
> Y te'mana'el – But not so long.  
> Thu – How  
> Nuvenan eolasa thu ane amahn – I need to know how you're here  
> Rosa – To survive


End file.
